


By touch we are betrayed

by amberfox17



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, First Time, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Sibling Incest, Slow Build, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 07:35:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amberfox17/pseuds/amberfox17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times Loki and Thor had a threesome and one time they cut out the middleman/woman. Angsty porn with feelings and of course, a signature happy ending.</p><p>Or, 12k of threesome porn for the following prompt by lokis-gspot on tumblr: "i theorize that thor and loki started having sex by having threesomes with women and at first they were like ‘as long as our dicks dont touch its not homo’ but then eventually they touched and then they never stopped touching".</p>
            </blockquote>





	By touch we are betrayed

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  [](http://amberfox17.tumblr.com)   
>    
> 

**I**

The first time, they are young men who fancy themselves well educated in the ways of the worlds, throwing themselves into trouble simply by being too foolish to know when they are outmatched. They are in a tavern on the outskirts of the city, convinced that no-one knows who they are and that it is simply their obvious skills and courage that is keeping the older, harder and much wiser thieves, mercenaries and cutthroats that surround them from laying a hand on them. They are men grown in body, but not yet men in mind, and there is still much of the boy in both of them as they drink and whoop and generally make nuisances of themselves.

Thor started it, bragging that the elegant, poised redhead loitering by the bar with a mysterious smile was clearly smiling at him. Loki, still in that stage of trying too hard, of trying to be something he was not, namely his elder brother, had immediately claimed that Thor must be blind, since it was clearly _him_ she was smiling at.

So, in the way of the young and eternally ignorant, they had made a bet on who she would take to bed, and had both made their way over to her where Thor boasted and flexed and Loki charmed and pouted.

Sonya had put up with up for so long, a small, secret smile playing about her lips, and just when it looked like the boys were about to try something truly desperate for her attention, she had taken them both by the hand and led them upstairs.

Now, she stands before them, one immaculate eyebrow raised, and slowly slides her dress from her shoulders to pool on the floor. Thor and Loki share a confused glance, still unsure as to what is to happen. Sonya sighs and steps forward, takes Loki by the hand and leads him to the bed.

“Well?” she says, and neither of the brothers has ever been able to resist a challenge.

As ever, Loki catches on quicker, and after one quick glance at Thor, he settles himself between her spread legs and sets to work.

Thor is horribly embarrassed, a hot flush creeping up his neck and burning across his cheeks, but something new and exciting is coiling in his belly, something dark and just as hot unfurling as he watches the way Loki laps expertly at Sonya’s wet cunt, making her gasp and her hips roll. He takes half a step closer without even thinking about it, circling around so he can see properly, can see Loki’s tongue flickering out to lick lightly over her swollen clit, can watch as he gently slides one long finger into her willing flesh.

She moans, louder, and Loki adds another finger, setting a slow, steady rhythm with his fingers as he slides them in and out of her clenching cunt, suckling at her clit as he does so. Sonya is panting and moaning, her cries coming faster and faster, but Loki refuses to hurry, keeping his slow, maddening pace as she begs and pleads. Thor can see her legs quivering and her stomach clenching as her orgasm builds and he suddenly realises that he is hard and when he looks, so is Loki, and the sight of it twists something inside him.

“Oh,” Sonya says, “Oh, yes, please, _please_ ,” her voice rising and rising and then she comes with a wail, her body bucking and head thrashing, while Loki remains still and focused, teasing out the aftershocks until she pushes lightly at his head. He rises then, and his mouth is soaking wet with her juices as he kisses her, as he fumbles with his trousers and pushes them down, and that – and that is his cock, and Thor should be horrified, but he cannot look away as Loki fits himself to the Sonya’s body and pushes in, making a low, keening noise as he enters her.

Loki sets a much quicker rhythm for himself, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he fucks her, his hair falling forward as he does so. Thor should look away, he must, but he does not, instead he watches, watches closely, as his brother’s rhythm fails, as he stutters and his hips jerk and he moans as he comes.

Loki pulls out, panting, and slumps to the side. Sonya sits up a little and beckons to Thor.

“Your turn,” she says smiling, reaching out a hand, and Thor goes to her. She tugs his trousers down, still smiling and spreads her legs wider for him. He is transfixed by the sight of Loki’s come trickling from her cunt, and he cannot help looking from the seed that stains her thighs to where Loki is lying beside them, his eyes dark and fixed on Thor.

Thor hesitates, unsure what this new, strange feeling is, but his cock is aching and Sonya is smiling and so he plunges into her, grunting as he does so. She is tight and hot and wet and everything he could want, and he begins to fuck her in earnest, as hard and as fast as he can, far rougher than Loki had been, and she moans and cries and praises him for it, her legs wrapping around his waist, but it is Loki he is aware of, the feel of Loki’s eyes roaming over his skin, and as his own climax builds he looks to his brother, unable to meet his eyes, his gaze skipping over his lips, his hands, his slender legs and when he comes it is with an intensity he has never felt before, the pleasure sweeping through him and shaking him apart with a ferocity he does not dare dwell on.

They get dressed in silence and they murmur their thanks, much to Sonya’s amusement. She kisses them both goodbye, fleetingly, and pats them on the cheek.

“Remember this,” she says, humour dancing in her eyes. “You are much better together than either of you alone. And don’t make bets about women. It’s rude and it only proves you are not the men you think you are.”

Thor looks away, shamefaced, but Loki meets her gaze. “Thank you,” he says again, and Thor knows him well enough to hear the note of sincerity.

They leave and return home, where they part ways at their respective bedrooms.

They don’t talk about it.

**II**

The second time is in Vanaheim, and they are both older and wiser and, sadly, less close then they once were. This is why they are in Vanaheim: Thor has dragged Loki from his studies, tempting him with promises of Vanaheim’s magical libraries, and then strong-arming him instead into a noisy and crowded drinking-place, for Vanaheim’s finest liquors and, it has to be said, for Vanaheim’s most beautiful women. Sif would have none of it, but waved them off cheerfully and now Hogan has vanished, to where and with whom none know; Volstagg, ever-faithful to his beloved wife, is in the middle of some kind of drinking contest with a Vanir who can put away a surprising amount of ale for so slight a figure, and Fandral is busy bowing out the door with a girl on each arm and one leading the way.

It is this that prompts Thor, an old but never forgotten memory suddenly rising in his mind, and he pauses in his casual fondling of the girl on his lap to look for his brother. Loki is sitting at the next table, listening with apparent interest to a discussion about the magics involved to raise the wind or the waves or possibly the dead, but he catches Thor’s eye and smiles.

The old, nameless feeling unfurls in Thor again and his mouth goes dry.

“Rosalin, what do you think of my brother?” he whispers to the girl in his lap, before he can change his mind.

Rosalin looks at Loki and then back at Thor. She leans back, pulling her thick, dark hair to one side so she can whisper in his ear.

“He is very handsome,” she says, her voice deep and smoky, “but given the choice, I would rather have you.”

“What would you say if you could have us both?” Thor says, his hand stroking her thigh.

“Oh, I would not be so greedy,” she laughs, and then she gets a proper look at his face. She gasps. “Truthfully?” she says, excitement thrumming in her voice. “Both of you? At once?”

“Aye,” Thor says and oh, he had not thought that far, for though he has had two or three or even four women together, he has never actively shared one with another man. But he would very much like to with Loki.

“ _Yes_ ,” she says, squeezing his thigh. “Oh, yes. I have a room upstairs. Third door on the left. I will be waiting.”

She slides off his lap and walks away, hips swaying. She is beautiful indeed, but it is not the thought of her alone that has him pushing through the crowd to Loki’s side with unseemly haste.

“Loki,” he says, bending down so his mouth is next to Loki’s ear. “I have an offer for you.”

“I do not need you to find women for me,” Loki snaps irritably. “Go and find one of your own.”

“I have found one for both of us,” Thor says and Loki goes very still.

“Both of us?” he repeats quietly.

“Yes,” Thor says quickly, “like Sonya in Asgard, you must remember -”

“I remember well,” Loki says, his voice curiously flat. “Are you sure this is what you want? For me to be with you?”

“Yes, of course,” Thor says, as if it were obvious, because it is, it just _is_ – he wants – he doesn’t want to think about it, he just wants to do it, wants to hold on to the surge of excitement that is crackling through his veins. Loki must say yes. He must.

“Then yes,” Loki says, perfectly calm, except for a fine tremor in his hands as he smooth’s his clothes. “Lead the way.”

When they reach her room, Rosalin is sitting cross-legged on the bed, wearing nothing but a wide smile.

“I am a very lucky girl,” she says, her gaze raking over both of them.

“We are lucky men,” Loki replies, effortlessly charming when he chooses to be. He shows no hesitation now and quickly strips and climbs onto the bed beside Rosalin, pulling her into a deep kiss. She responds enthusiastically, her hands roaming over his body, teasing lightly at his swelling cock and then skimming away as she grinds her hips against him.

Thor watches, utterly fascinated by the slide of their skin, of the way their long legs are entwined together, the quiet sighs and breathy gasps they make. They are so beautiful.

Rosalin breaks the kiss to turn and smirk at Thor.

“Are you planning on joining us, or just watching?” she asks archly and for a moment Thor thinks about it seriously, wonders if it would be just as good to watch, a small voice in the back of his mind whispering ‘safer’.

But then Loki looks at him and smiles and Rosalin is beckoning impatiently and the moment is gone.

“Your brother is famous for his skilled tongue,” she says, her smile wide, “but I would know what yours can do.”

Thor huffs a laugh and shucks his clothes as she moves up the bed, pushing at Loki until he is sitting up against the headboard with her in front of him facing Thor, both their legs spread wide. Thor settles himself between her thighs, lying comfortably on his stomach, and sets to work, keen to prove himself more than his brother’s equal.

Rosalin is wet and sweet on his tongue and he laps hungrily at her cunt, alternating broad licks of her swollen clit with thrusts into her juicy hole. Her arousal is soon smeared all over his lips and chin and she is writhing and bucking beneath him, but he cannot properly hear her cries and so he pauses for a moment to look up.

Loki has captured her in a kiss again, though it is more a messy meeting of tongues and panting breath. His hands are busy at her breasts, kneading and squeezing at her generous flesh, rolling the stiff nipples between his fingers and lightly pinching when she moans.

Thor watches, unable to look away, until Rosalin kicks him sharply with her heel and he guiltily remembers his place. She is so wet that she takes one finger and then two with barely any resistance at all, and he carefully adds a third just to hear her cut-off gasp. He fucks her roughly with his fingers as he licks her clit in rapid circles and he can feel her climax building in the quivering of her thighs against his head and the rapidly rising moans as she breaks the kiss, a loud ‘Oh,’ repeating over and over until it is one long wail of noise as she comes, her body bucking wildly, her taste exploding on Thor’s tongue.

Thor looks up, smiling smugly, to see Loki lightly kissing the panting Rosalin’s neck as she lies slumped in his arms.

“So you do have some talents beyond the obvious,” Loki murmurs, a tiny smile quirking at his lips, and the praise sends a sudden, surprising jolt of desire through Thor that he does not want to examine too closely.

Rosalin opens her eyes and leans forward, bending awkwardly until she can kiss Thor thoroughly and she truly is an excellent kisser. She pulls away, her mouth wet with her own juices, and lets Loki kiss her clean as Thor wipes his own mouth and sits up.

“Your turn,” she says, face flushed and eyes bright, and wastes no time in manhandling Thor, who is more than happy to allow her to direct them. She arranges him on the bed so he is sitting up on his knees, his prominent hard-on level with her face as she kneels on all fours, presenting herself to Loki who mimics Thor’s position and lines up his own erection with her slick folds.

Loki pushes into her with a grunt, his eyes fluttering shut as he does so, lips parting, and Thor is very sorry he cannot see it, but only for a heartbeat for Rosalin opens her mouth and he carefully slides his own cock into her waiting mouth. He curls his fingers into her hair so he can guide her gently, but holds himself still, for he knows he is a large man and she is already being pushed forward and pulled back by Loki, who has wrapped his hands around her hips and is fucking her with long, slow strokes, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting forward, jolting her forward and further onto Thor’s cock.

Rosalin’s warm mouth is blissful wrapped around his cock and with her kneeling between them he has an uninterrupted view of Loki, his face slack with pleasure as he fucks her, his eyes closed and his mouth open as he does so. Thor fucks hard and fast, always has, but Loki favours a slower, more languorous approach, rolling his hips in a steady rhythm that has Rosalin whimpering with pleasure.

It can only last so long however, and Loki’s forehead creases as his own pleasure mounts and he begins to move faster, each thrust more forceful, his rhythm beginning to fail as he chases his climax. He is moaning now, and the low sound sends frissons of excitement up Thor’s spine, but it is nothing compared to the flare of arousal he feels as Loki’s eyes open and lock with Thor’s, as his moans become cries, as he comes, face contorting with ecstasy as Thor watches desperately, teetering on the edge of climax but not quite there.

Loki slumps, panting, but only for a minute; then he leans forward so he can slide his fingers to where he is still joined with Rosalin and tease at her clit, causing her to yelp and sigh as she focuses on Thor’s cock, swirling around his shaft with her tongue. Loki is still staring at Thor, waiting, and Thor can feel it building, his hips pushing forward despite his attempts to be gentle, his hands tightening in Rosalin’s hair, and then Loki licks his lips and Thor is coming, emptying himself in Rosalin’s mouth with a shout.

He pulls out to let her breathe as she slumps to her elbows, head hanging low, legs trembling as Loki coaxes her to a second orgasm, his long pale fingers working between her legs but his gaze still fixed on Thor, who feels a strange and unsettling thrill still tingling in his veins, quite unlike his usual afterglow. Rosalin comes again with a great sigh and Loki smiles.

“That was…that was wonderful,” Rosalin mutters as Loki finally pulls out, pressing a last kiss to the small of her back.

“Yes,” Loki says, wiping himself clean on the bedding, his eyes flicking from Thor to the exhausted Rosalin. “A truly…wonderful experience. Thank you, my lady.”

“Thank you,” Thor echoes, feeling strangely unsettled as he and Loki dress themselves. Rosalin clearly has no intention of moving and flaps a hand lazily as they bid her farewell.

They return to the tavern to find the Warriors Three long gone and so return to Asgard together, in a silence Thor cannot name as companionable yet is not wholly uncomfortable. There is a sense of anticipation, of some sort of yawning precipice between them that Thor does not have the words to describe nor navigate. Thankfully, he does not have to, for Loki is preoccupied with something that has him frowning and lost in thought, and so they part at their respective bedrooms with only casual goodnights, as if it were any other evening of revelry.

Thor thinks, briefly, that perhaps they should discuss what happened the next day; but when he wakes he still cannot find the words and Loki seems disinclined to talk about anything at all with him, so he leaves his brother to his books and seeks out the uncomplicated friendship of Sif and the others, deciding to broach the topic another time.

They never do manage to talk about it.

**III**

The third time is barely a year later. The diplomatic tour of Alfheim is coming to an end, and the two Princes have been released from the endless rounds of politeness and restraint and formality that have been slowly driving Thor crazy. Loki handles official affairs with an ease that puts even the most experienced diplomats to shame, but Thor still knows him well enough to see the signs of strain and frustration, the sly quips becoming more and more pointed as Loki’s patience wears thin.

They are both in need of a break and a chance to burn off some of their excess energy, for the governance of a Lordship is surely a task more for old men than two energetic Princes, and so they have found themselves a lively and bustling square, full of dancing and music and copious amounts of potent elf-wine, and have no intention of leaving before dawn.

Thor is considering whether to join the whirling throng of dancers or the handful of half-naked wrestlers when he feels a hand on his shoulder and looks up to see Loki smiling at him. His brother’s hair is mussed and his face flushed, but his words are steady and unslurred: he is no more drunk than Thor, only merry and relaxed, something which pleases Thor no end.

“Brother!” Loki says cheerfully. “How are you enjoying the hospitality of the elves?”

“Well enough,” Thor replies with a laugh. “As are you, I see.”

“True enough,” Loki says, “but I have a special invitation to extend on a certain lady’s behalf.”

“ _You_ have found _me_ a woman?” Thor says incredulously, for such a thing is completely out of character for his brother.

“Rather a lady has found _us_ – or would like to, if you are amenable to the suggestion,” Loki says, his voice suddenly low and intimate. It takes Thor a moment to work out what he means and another to catch his breath, remembering Sonya and Rosalin and the look on Loki’s face as he came.

“Only if the idea appeals, of course,” Loki says stiffly when Thor fails to answer, and Thor can hear his disappointment and hurt.

“It does. It does,” Thor says, ignoring the tendril of doubt in favour of the rising tide of excitement, the surge of desire at the thought of sharing a beautiful woman with Loki again. Surely there can be no harm in it? After all, this time it is at the lady’s suggestion – so it must be a common and unremarkable enough thing. “Where is she?”

“This way,” Loki says, squeezing Thor’s shoulder, and his excitement is palpable as he leads Thor through the maze of narrow streets to where a beautiful elf is waiting in a doorway. She beckons them inside and they enter what seems to be her sitting-room, an airy space of comfortable chairs and a wrought-iron daybed, tall bookcases and scattered sheaves of parchment. A scholar perhaps, or an artist: Thor finds he does not much care as she locks the door and moves around the room lighting small lamps to brighten the evening shadows.

She approaches them at last and she is tiny next to them, as all the elves are, the top of her head barely reaching Thor and Loki’s collarbones. She stands with her hands on her hips, openly appraising both of them.

“Thor, this is Danuwa,” Loki says, “and she has a very specific proposition for us.”

“I would like to have you both,” Danuwa says briskly, uninterested in small talk. “But you will do what I say and only what I say. You will not speak,” she explains, looking at Thor and then Loki. “I will command. You will obey. Do you agree?”

Thor blinks, bemused but also aroused; he has always preferred confident bed-partners and he does not think he has been told exactly what to do before. It sounds like an excellent idea and so he nods agreement.

“Good,” Danuwa says firmly. “Now, remove your clothes.”

Thor does so, slowly, and so does Loki beside him as Danuwa looks on. It is not until he and Loki are fully naked and standing side by side that Danuwa pulls off her own tunic and leggings and circles them both, running a hand over Thor’s arm and down Loki’s back.

Thor exchanges a glance with Loki, who flashes him a reassuring smile. Thor’s gaze slides down Loki’s body to see that his cock is already half-hard and the sight sends a spike of desire through him that is magnified as Danuwa comes back to stand before them, eyeing them both with naked lust on her face.

“You,” she says, pointing to Thor. “On the daybed. Sit up, facing us.”

Thor obeys.

“Back. Further back,” she says, until his back hits the wall and there is just enough room for her and Loki to sit in front of him on the bed. The bed may be large by elf standards, but he and Loki are tall, and it is a tight fit.

“Stroke yourself,” Danuwa commands. “Slowly.”

Thor reaches down and takes himself in hand, feeling oddly comfortable with being so exposed, keenly aware of both sets of eyes fixed on him. He slowly slides his fist along his growing cock, feeling it swell into full hardness as he does so. Danuwa makes an approving noise.

“You,” she says, her hand on Loki, “Sit next to him. Stay still.”

Loki does so and she climbs fluidly into his lap, legs hooked around his waist. She kisses him, first on the mouth and then on the neck, grinding her hips against him as she does so, her eyes on Thor.

Thor continues to stroke himself slowly as she runs her hands over Loki’s body, stroking his skin and gently pinching his nipples, then chasing her fingertips with her mouth, her hips always rocking, teasing and taunting him but never taking his cock in hand. Loki remains still, although he trembles a little when she bites and sucks at his most sensitive spots, his eyes closed and head tipped back. She lifts his hands to her breasts and instructs him as he fondles them, pulling him forward by the hair until his lips meets her flesh, and then guiding him over her neck and breasts. Loki obeys completely. Thor watches greedily.

“Good,” Danuwa says when she has had enough of tormenting Loki, and turns to Thor. “Now, you, on your back. Hands flat on the bed. Do not move.”

Thor does so and watches avidly as she straddles him, facing outward, and slowly lowers herself onto his cock, grunting a little as her wet heat swallows him. It is a truly wonderful view, the pert globes of Danuwa’s ass rising and falling, his own cock disappearing between them, her back arched and long hair swaying as she moves. But it is not her is he is looking at: it is Loki, knelt in front of her between Thor’s legs, for Loki is so much taller than Danuwa that Thor has a clear view of his face.

“Touch me,” Danuwa orders between gasps, her hands gripping Thor’s knees as she fucks herself on his cock, and Loki obeys, reaching down to slide his fingers over her wet clit. But Loki’s fingers are long and Danuwa is sopping wet, and as he strokes her, his fingertips graze along her folds and skitter lightly over Thor’s cock where it enters her. Thor cannot help a gasp of his own.

“Yes,” Danuwa says, head tilted up, looking at Loki. “ _Exactly_ like that.”

A rueful smile flickers across Loki’s lips for a heartbeat, so brief Thor almost misses it, and then Loki inclines his head and obeys, alternating stroking Danuwa’s clit and teasing at where she and Thor are joined. It is a strange and maddening sensation for Thor, just the lightest, barest of touches, not enough to be called stimulation, but enough that he cannot ignore it, cannot pretend he is not hyper-aware that every time Loki touches Danuwa he is also touching Thor.

Thor closes his eyes. This is dangerous, he thinks, fighting to remain still as Danuwa demanded. This is more than what they have done before and perhaps more than they should be doing. They are brothers. And yet – it is not them doing this, truly; they are only obeying Danuwa, only doing what she wants, what she has commanded them to do. Surely that makes it alright? After all, there are far stranger things they could be doing.

Still, he keeps his eyes closed, so he cannot see Loki’s face. He is not sure what he would see, nor what Loki might see in him. And if closing his eyes heightens his awareness of the gentle touch along his cock, ghosting along his balls as Danuwa moves faster and Loki’s hands slip, well, none will know it but him.

Danuwa’s cunt is hot and wet and clenches him evermore tightly as her orgasm builds and builds, and it is all too easy to drift in the overwhelming feeling, to listen to her breathing quicken and pick out the corresponding sounds of Loki panting. He fancies he can feel Loki’s gaze on him, feel the weight it on his own face, his chest, where his arms clench as he fists his hands in the fabric beneath him, straining against the desire to buck up and take over the fucking.

Danuwa’s rising and falling is becoming ragged, her thighs trembling where they grip Thor’s hips, and he can feel her body shaking. She is close and her nails rake against his skin as she begins to moan, Loki’s hands moving urgently between her legs.

“Yes,” she gasps, and again, “Yes, yes, _yes_ -” and then she tips her head back and screams as she comes.

“Danuwa,” Thor says, near-frantic, as she slumps, desperate to move, hyper-aware of one of Loki’s wet hands on his calf. “Danuwa, please -”

“You don’t take orders well, do you?” she murmurs, amused. “Very well. On your side.”

She tips herself to the side and Thor follows blindly, eyes still closed, until they are spooning, Loki scooting out of the way. Danuwa leans forward, bending at the waist, and Thor grips her by the waist and pulls her haunches back, seating her more securely on his cock.

“You may fuck me,” she says and Thor almost whimpers in relief before setting to it, pushing in as deep as he can, pulling out only a little and then shoving in again, one hand tight on her hip, the other on the underside of her thigh, spreading her legs a little wider so he can move more freely. He is so busy fucking he doesn’t realise Loki is moving until he feels those long fingers brushing against his own.

Thor’s eyes snap open. Loki is lying on his side, curled around Danuwa, her head buried in his lap and his legs folded up against her chest. He has arched his body around her head so his own is close to Thor’s. He is not touching Thor now, but had merely brushed against him as he arranged himself.

Thor knows he should close his eyes again, give himself over to the simple pleasure of his own orgasm, the slide of his cock inside Danuwa, but he does not. Instead he looks at Loki, almost close enough to kiss, and lets Loki look back, both panting, both their hips moving in the same urgent rhythm, slick, wet sounds filling the air as Thor fucks Danuwa’s cunt and Loki her mouth. It is strange and intimate and surely wrong, for it is almost – almost – as if Thor were – as if Loki was – it is the same pleasure building between them, their lips parted and breath mingling and – and it is – it is –

Thor comes in a sudden, blinding rush, impossible thoughts searing his mind, Loki watching him as he does so and whatever he sees affects him as strongly as it has Thor, for moments later he comes too, face lifting towards Thor as if – as if –

There is a thrill still tingling along his spine, a hum of want beneath his skin, warring with the lassitude of his sated cock. He wants more. And he knows – he _knows_ – that Loki feels the same, can see it in his face, in the fear and frustration in his eyes. He cannot think this. He will not think this.

He turns away from Loki before he can do or say something irreparable. He eases from Danuwa and lets her uncurl between them, smiling smugly.

“Can I be of further service to you?” he asks, forcing himself to smile, pretending this is still all just another revel for them.

“You may,” Danuwa replies with a laugh, eyes crinkling with amusement at his mock-formality, and rolls onto her back with easy grace, allowing Thor to settle between her thighs. But before he can press his mouth to her, Loki’s hand settles on his back and he freezes.

“No, no,” Loki says, mock-stern. “You shall not have all the glory. We both owe the lady a little more.” He is smiling and sounds entirely at ease, but as he gently guides Thor aside his eyes are dark and Thor struggles to meet them.

“If you can – no, here, and I shall -” It takes a few moments for Thor to catch on, distracted as he is, but when he does he hesitates. Loki crouches over Danuwa, already lapping gently at her clit, body stretched out to her left, and he wants Thor to mirror him on her right, and slides his fingers into her wet hole, so that they may both bring her to a second climax. Either could easily do so alone, but clearly Loki is not willing to yet let go of the strange charge between him and Thor.

Another bad idea, a terrible idea, and Thor, fool that he is, goes along with it. It is cramped and awkward on the daybed, but he squeezes himself into position and slides two and then three fingers into Danuwa’s open cunt, slick with his own come, and works them carefully, inches from Loki’s face, watching as Loki’s tongue lathes her clit. Awkward and unnecessary and Norns help him, Thor is utterly captivated, for it is impossible not to imagine his fingers sliding into Loki’s mouth, that clever tongue winding round his calluses, preparing them for –for –

Danuwa arches and screams, her body clamping down on Thor’s fingers and he grunts, surprised and guilty, for it is not her he is thinking of, and neither, he suspects, is Loki. He eases his fingers from her body and lets his head fall against her side, his hair obscuring his vision. What has he done?

“Thank you, my lady,” Loki is saying, charming and attentive, laughing lightly with Danuwa as she rises, offers them cool drinks and damp cleaning cloths, covering for the way Thor stumbles over his thanks and cannot meet either of their eyes. He does not regret the coupling but he is stunned, wishing he was more confused than he is, the newfound knowledge he will not put words to a heavy weight dragging his spirit down.

“You have quite worn my brother out!” Loki calls back to Danuwa as they leave, slipping an arm around Thor’s waist as if Thor were drunk or half-asleep instead of numb with shock. He should probably flinch. He doesn’t.

It is late, or, more accurately, early, and Thor thinks he is quite done with revelry.

“I need to go to bed,” he mumbles.

“Then I shall take you there,” Loki says and a fresh rush of desire flares within Thor. It would be so easy to turn his head and rest it against Loki’s shoulder, to feign drunkenness and pull Loki into an embrace as he has done a thousand times before, and then –

He doesn’t. But he does slip his own arm around Loki’s waist and hears Loki’s breath catch.

They walk in silence back to their lodgings and there they part, slipping into their own beds in the shared room without a word.

In the morning, they resolutely turn away from each other as they dress, eyes fixed on the walls, the ceiling, the floor, the unspoken agreement clear.

They must not talk about it.

**IV**

The fourth time is barely a week later. The diplomatic tour has moved on to Svartalfheim, where the negotiations are more complex and the issues of rank and respect more pertinent. Thor and Loki smile politely at feasts and dance with pre-selected partners on command, but since the Svartalfar have no Princes or Princesses to entertain or be entertained, little else is asked of them, and so they take to wandering the sprawling streets and bustling markets of the City of Spires. Their clothes identify them as Asgardians to all they meet, but none seem to know who they are, and, amusingly, they are often asked for tales of the young Princes. Is it true Prince Thor wields a magic hammer? asks a street-seller when they stop for vegetable rolls in a spicy batter. Have you ever seen one of Prince Loki’s illusions? asks a friendly mage when they stop to admire his illuminated books.

It is liberating and Thor does not mind overmuch when Loki makes up outrageous stories, many at his expense, which their wide-eyed companions soak up without question. Father will likely be less than pleased when the rumour that Thor is to marry a Midgardian and cut his teeth on rulership by arbitrating the disputes of that pitiful realm reaches his ears, but it is so impossible a tale no-one in power will ever take it seriously.

Thor stands and nods solemnly as Loki’s lies becomes ever more elaborate, waiting until they turn a corner and are safely alone before bursting into laughter. It feels good to laugh with Loki, to indulge him in his small mischiefs, instead of brooding on the secret that lies between them, which has them avoiding all manner of innocent things they have always done. But he is careful not to go out in the evenings with Loki, the two of them deliberately separating to seek out companions for the night, exploring the bars and taverns of Svartalfheim alone and not together.

They have only been here six days and Thor has fucked more than a dozen women and a handful of men, trying to extinguish his lust in a flurry of eager smiles and willing flesh. It has not helped. No matter what he does, when he returns to the room he shares with Loki and sees his brother curled into his bed, the unspeakable want swallows him up. What is worse is that he knows Loki is in the same state he is, his eyes following Thor’s every movement, bright and hungry and so close Thor could just reach out and –

He doesn’t. And Loki doesn’t move. They both lie there in the darkness until they fall asleep.

Surely, once they return to Asgard they will be able to leave this strangeness behind, or at least there will be their friends and their duties and much else to occupy their time. Surely, the tension between them will ease, will pass, like a strange summer heat-storm, the unbearable heat washed away by cool rain.

At last it is their last night in Svartalfheim and Thor is drinking alone. He has no intention of staying that way, but for now, it is the only time he allows himself to dwell on what he feels, lets himself fully acknowledge what it in his heart and in his mind every time he is near Loki.

“Thor!” He jerks his head up at the hiss, for he has not been using his name here, preferring to cling to the anonymity he has found.

It is Loki, hovering at the tavern door, wild-eyed, beckoning furiously.

Thor is on his feet instantly, following his frantic brother out to the relative privacy of the stables. His heart is pounding: is Loki hurt or in trouble?

“Lo -” he starts, but then silences himself. They are not alone.

“Is this your…friend?” asks the Svartalfar waiting in the shadows. He smiles coyly, unconcerned that he is naked and Thor and Loki are fully clothed and looming over him. “He is very…tall.”

Thor looks at Loki. His brother stares back, defiant and pleading at once, hands twitching towards Thor. This is madness; this is the last thing they should be doing, poised on the edge of the precipice as they are.

“This is your first time sharing another man?” the Svartalfar guesses; it would be impossible for him not to pick up on the tension crackling between them. “You will enjoy it,” he says, smiling, cocking his hip to show off his lean figure. “Do not worry. I will not come between you. It will be a pleasurable diversion for all of us, and then I shall go, and you will still have each other.”

That is what frightens Thor most of all, although he cannot say that to this stranger.

“Please,” Loki says softly, fingers settling on the back of Thor’s hand. “Just – just this once. It does not have to mean anything.”

“It means much,” Thor murmurs back, not meeting Loki’s gaze. “This is not wise.”

“Then let it mean much,” Loki says desperately. “Just this one night. A dream, a dream of foolishness that will be gone come the dawn.”

Thor should say no. Thor should walk away, be the strength his brother lacks, should do what is right for both of them. But he does not. Instead, he turns his hands over, brushes his fingers along Loki’s and lifts his gaze to see Loki’s eyes darken with lust. He nods.

The Svartalfar is watching them with open curiosity but is polite enough not to comment as Thor tears his attention from Loki to him.

“I am Liwei,” he says instead, looking up at Thor. “Might I make a suggestion?”

Thor nods again; he does not trust his voice. He does not trust himself.

“Let him take me,” Liwei suggests, pointing at Loki, “and I shall sit on his lap as he does so, facing you, that you might hold the both of us close, and choose how you and I shall come.”

It is a kind offer, meant to reassure an uncertain partner that this is not a betrayal, that he will not be left apart as the one he loves fucks another. But that is not what Thor is. It is _not_.

“Yes,” Loki says behind them, and he places his hand on the small of Thor’s back, a perfectly friendly gesture that nevertheless has Thor’s cock stirring in a way that Liwei’s nakedness does not.

A dream, Thor thinks as he gives in, begins to strip, barely aware of Liwei making a clean space for them on the floor, fetching a bottle from his folded clothes and pouring lightly-scented oil into a small bowl. Only a dream.

Liwei moves briskly and efficiently, guiding Loki to sit on the blanket he has put down, legs wide apart and stretched out in front of him. Loki’s cock is already fully hard and Liwei looks from him to Thor and evidently decides they are in no mood for foreplay. Instead, he hands the bowl of oil to Loki and kneels in front of him on all fours, presenting his toned ass. Loki slicks his fingers and begins to prepare him, surprisingly careful despite how close he obviously is to the edge.

Thor just watches, watches Loki scissor and twist, opening Liwei up, his forehead creased in concentration, as skilled at this as everything else they’ve done. Loki has always been fonder of men than Thor, but Thor wonders what he is thinking now, if he imagines Thor doing this to him or, and the thought rises up unbidden, _forbidden_ , if Loki imagines Thor before him, Thor on his knees, head hanging low, thighs trembling, waiting for his body to ease enough for him to take Loki’s cock – oh, truly, his depravity knows no bounds he thinks, faintly horrified but mostly thrilled at the thought. He is thankful that Loki does not look up.

“I am ready,” Liwei manages and Loki nods, gaze skittering up to Thor and back down, slicking his cock generously and guiding Liwei into his lap. They both groan as Loki’s cock breaches him and Thor’s own breath is ragged as Liwei slowly, incrementally, lowers himself onto Loki until Loki’s cock is fully sheathed inside him.

Liwei’s eyes are glazed with pleasure, but he is aware enough to unfold his legs and look up at Thor with an unfocused smile. “Come here,” he says and Thor does, sits before them, scoots forward until his chest is pressed against Liwei’s, and carefully hooks his legs over Loki’s, balancing Liwei on his own thighs. Liwei cannot move, but he is much lighter and smaller than Thor or Loki, and it will be easy enough for Thor to lift him, to help Loki fuck him by supporting Liwei’s weight with his hands.

Thor reaches down and strokes Liwei’s flagging erection back to full hardness until Liwei locks his legs around Thor and grips his forearms, but it is Loki Thor is keenly aware, of how close they are, their pelvises only separated by Liwei’s body, Loki’s cock sheathed inside him as Thor’s brushing against his. It is Loki Thor sees, lips parted, green eyes swamped with black; if he wanted to, he could lean past Liwei and kiss Loki.

Loki likely thinks the same, for he gasps and his hips jerk. “Yes,” Liwei moans and so they begin, Loki pushing up, Thor keeping Liwei in place, pushing and pulling at him, his own aching cock grinding against Liwei’s. He lets go long enough to fumble for the remaining oil and clumsily pours it over them, covering their abdomens as much as their cocks, but it’s enough, it gives him something to thrust against, their cocks sliding together, and Liwei lets go of Thor’s arm with his right hand and holds their cocks together, barely able to fit his fingers around the two of them, but doing enough for it to go from pleasing to truly pleasurable.

In truth, Thor thinks as he grunts and moves, he would come from much less, simply from being so close to Loki, from having his legs pressed against Thor, from the way he looks at Thor as he fucks into Liwei, everything they will not say spelled out in his wide eyes and open mouth. A dream, a mad dream, and it is too much for it to last, Loki gritting his teeth as he fucks harder and faster, Thor’s name locked behind his lips as he comes.

Thor wants to kiss him, needs to kiss him, but instead he lets go of Liwei, now secure enough that Loki is not moving, and wraps his broad palm around their cocks. Loki remains still, supporting Liwei, his hands flat on the floor to brace against them, but he presses his legs against Thor ever more tightly. Liwei is more than happy for him to take over and shifts his grip to Thor’s shoulder, back arching as they push frantically into Thor’s hand, until he comes with a cry and Thor follows, one choked off syllable escaping as he moans.

Thor closes his eyes and lets his head fall forward, and a few moments later feels Loki doing the same, their foreheads pressed together, Liwei still held between them. It is over. Too quick, too intense to last. It was still not enough. He knows that if he opens his eyes, he will see that Loki’s are brimming with tears. He knows he will kiss them away.

Long moments pass and Thor collects himself. He eases himself away from where they are tangled together and helps Liwei up, avoiding looking for too long at Loki. Loki, for his part, does not move at all. Liwei looks at them with concern.

“Are you alright?” he asks as they clean themselves up and dress. “Will you two be alright?”

“Yes,” Thor says. “Thank you. It was just…an overwhelming experience for us.”

“Very well,” Liwei says, not pressing further. “I enjoyed myself immensely. But I do not think I will see you again. Look after each other.”

“We will,” Thor promises, and watches the Svartalfar slip away before kneeling before Loki.

“Time to go,” he says softly, trying to ignore the smell of sex that surrounds them, the way his sweat-soaked skin itches beneath his clothes. Loki looks up at him with a heart-breaking blend of need and want and despair.

“I thought…” he says and trails off. Thor knows exactly what he thought.

“We should not do this again,” he says, far later than he should have.

“I know,” Loki says, squeezing his eyes shut. “I know. Go back to our room, Thor. I would be alone for a time.”

Thor hesitates, thinks of offering Loki a hug, a shoulder clasp, a friendly smile. He does not like to think of his brother suffering alone. But with some of his lust spent he has sense enough to know that he will only do more damage by staying.

“Goodnight,” he says, the unsaid ‘brother’ hovering on his tongue.

Loki does not reply as he walks away.

**V**

Thor falls asleep before Loki returns to their shared room, if he returns at all; Thor wakes the next day to a made bed and does not see Loki at breakfast or while he is packing. It is not until they assemble at the Bifrost site that he catches sight of his brother, pale and fidgety, pretending to be occupied with some new book. Thor leaves him alone.

Back in Asgard, Thor immediately heads off to find the Warriors Three and Sif, and spends a pleasant afternoon talking about some of his adventures on the tour and making excuses for Loki’s absence. His friends’ company is easy and uncomplicated and he laughs louder and thinks less, and this suits him well.

Loki is missing from the dining hall that evening, in bed with a headache according to Frigga, and Thor forces himself to let it go, to put his own squirming guilt and fear and irrepressible desire aside. It works, well enough, and he eats and drinks and smiles. This is how it will be, he tells himself. He and Loki will work through it in their own way, and, in time, will be brothers once more.

But later he lies in bed alone, tossing and turning, the memory of their coupling with Liwei fresh in his mind, and he knows himself a liar. He cannot put his desire for Loki so easily aside and he fights not to give in and reach for where his cock bobs against his belly. He is so on edge he catches the faintest of sounds: an owl calling in the gardens, a door opening somewhere in the palace, light feet padding past his door –

There is only one person he knows with footsteps that light. Without thinking, he leaps out of bed and throws open the door, just catching the hooded figure as he turns the corner.

“Loki!” he calls and the figure turns jerkily.

“Go to bed, Thor,” Loki says, but he cannot keep his gaze on Thor’s face, and Thor abruptly remembers he is naked and hard.

“Where are you going?” Thor asks, fumbling for a cushion to cover himself with.

“Out,” Loki snaps, turning away.

“Tell me,” Thor says, too loud, and Loki turns back, scowling. “Tell me,” Thor says, more quietly. “Please.”

Loki glares at him, but there is no heat in it. “I am going to a brothel, if you must know,” he hisses. “I fail to see it is any of your concern, _brother_.”

“Don’t go without me.”

“What?” Loki looks as dumbfounded as Thor feels. He had not meant to say it, but the thought of Loki with someone else, someone else without him, feels ugly and wrong. “I _need_ to, Thor. I can’t -”

“Then take me with you,” Thor pleads.

Loki’s face is blanched white in the moonlight. “You know we can’t,” he says, voice breaking. “We _can’t._ ”

“We can,” Thor says, and he doesn’t know why, doesn’t know where this sudden need has come from. He had decided – they had decided – to turn back, to stop this before it became any worse, but now – now he does not care. He wants, desperately, to have Loki, and if the only way he can do so is with another pressed between them, then that is what he will have. “We can dream, Loki. As often as we want to. As long as it is only dreams, it will be alright -”

“No,” Loki hisses, stepping forward. “No more talk of dreams. It is not enough, Thor, to share a man or a woman with you and pretend it is just a thrill, just something new and harmless. You know what we want. And we cannot have it.”

“Then let us have what we can,” Thor argues, struggling to frame a response without speaking the truth, as if by avoiding the words they can avoid the consequences. “I know I cannot have what I truly want. But I can share someone with you tonight. Is that not better than nothing?”

“ _Thor_ ,” Loki says, and his voice is rising, though with anger or distress Thor cannot say.

“Please,” Thor interrupts, conscious of the irony of his plea, knowing he is making a mistake. “At least one more time, Loki. Please.”

Loki looks at him, struggling with his composure, and Thor takes the opportunity to reach back into his room and grab his clothing. He pulls them on in the hallway, unwilling to let Loki out of his sight.

Loki sighs, but he makes no effort to disappear as Thor closes with him, and says nothing as Thor follows him out of the palace and into the city.

Loki takes him to an unfamiliar street and into an establishment he has never been in before; he can see the sense in this, and does his best to lurk in the background as Loki arranges their room and companion. They climb the creaking stairs, still silent, shoulders brushing, hands carefully at their sides.

It is a clean and spacious room, well-furnished and well lit. The courtesan is waiting for them on the oversized bed, calm and reserved rather than friendly, waiting patiently for them to come to him.

“Do you have a preference for positions?” he asks, all business, and Thor looks to Loki.

“My friend will take you as you take me,” Loki says crisply, not looking at Thor. The courtesan nods and smiles, rising gracefully to his feet and pulling out a bottle of oil from the bedside cabinet. He turns to Loki and raises a hand to stroke his hair.

Loki jerks back. “No,” he says sharply, and then seems to collect himself. “I mean…we do not wish for…undue affection. It is not necessary.”

Thor would expect the courtesan to be affronted but he seems unruffled. “As you wish,” he says, and stands aside as Loki pulls off his clothes, dropping them in a haphazard heap on the ground. Thor watches, frowning a little; it is hard to read Loki’s mood, but he is certainly not as enthusiastic as he has been before. Thor removes his own clothes with a little more care and stands awkwardly by the bed, unsure of himself for the first time since Sonya took them both by the hand.

Loki lies on his back, legs pulled up, gaze fixed on the ceiling and the courtesan returns to the bed and begins to efficiently work him open without any preamble. It sparks an unease in Thor, something between jealousy and frustration, to see this stranger touch his brother so intimately and yet so dispassionately. Thor would not behave so, would take his time, ease his fingers in slowly and gently, have Loki writhing in pleasure before they even really started, not just lying there, breathing slowly and evenly, as if it were something to be endured.

Thor steps closer without thinking. It would be so easy to push the courtesan aside and take over, to press a kiss to Loki’s inner thigh and watch his eyes flutter open, watch him slide from surprise to delight to desire –

“That’s enough,” Loki says, unnaturally calm, and Thor comes back to himself.

“Are you certain?” the courtesan says, stilling. “There is no rush -”

“There is for me,” Loki says, and now his voice shakes a little, less calm and more restrained, as if he is holding himself on a tight leash. Thor knows that feeling well.

“As you wish,” the courtesan says placidly and Thor grits his teeth. He does not like this; all of their other partners had been excited, greedy, glad of the opportunity to have Thor and Loki both, and if he had not been as focused on them as he should have been, then at least he had made sure they enjoyed themselves.

But he cannot escape the knowledge that for this courtesan this is just another job, and while he does not mind that for himself, has no illusions that the brothel is anything other than a place of work, it strikes him as a great waste for Loki. His brother is beautiful and precious and has no need to buy another’s touch, as other lonely men and women must do. He has Thor. They should not be reduced to this, to paying for a warm body to keep them from each other, trapped in a limbo of being together and being apart.

But even as the doubts begin to crowd on his tongue the courtesan has slicked his cock and begun to press into Loki, working his way in in careful increments. Thor is both furious and hopelessly aroused as another man fucks into his brother, as Loki’s body so easily accepts his cock while Loki himself stares up, unseeing, clinging to a fantasy Thor can so easily imagine.

“I am also ready, my lord,” the courtesan says once he is fully sheathed, spreading his legs as wide as he can while between Loki’s. Thor would rather not, but he asked for this, he begged Loki to include him in this, and so he moves into place. His heart may be heavy but so is his uncaring cock, desire thrumming despite his low mood, the sight of Loki spread out and impaled enough to have him fully hard without touching himself. He spreads the oil on his cock and reaches for the courtesan: as he said, he is already wet and loose, and Thor need spend little time adding more oil, just to be sure.

He pushes into the courtesan easily enough, one long thrust that jolts the smaller man forward, earning a muffled grunt from him and a quiet ‘oh’ from Loki. The courtesan is bent forward at the waist, braced over Loki, but with Thor’s height he can see over him, can see Loki and Loki is all he sees. Loki’s eyes clear as he shifts his gaze from wherever he has been to focus on Thor, a terrible longing written plainly on his face. Thor moves again, a slow withdrawal and a faster thrust and Loki makes another small, pained noise as the courtesan’s body moves with Thor’s, translating the movement into Loki’s own flesh.

It is awkward, but Thor manages to lean forward enough to get a hand on the bed and Loki twists to the side, reaching out until their fingers connect and latch together and the simple touch burns, Thor more conscious of the softness of Loki’s palm than the heat and tightness surrounding his cock.

He cannot look away from Loki’s haunted eyes, cannot imagine how his own face looks, pain and want and desire so tangled up he cannot tell if he is enjoying this or if it is the most painful thing he has ever experienced. It is useless to pretend that this is harmless sport or a risqué thrill all the more exciting for bordering on the obscene.

It is a lie and suddenly Thor cannot bear it.

“I cannot,” he says, desire flickering and fading. “I cannot do this.” He carefully extricates himself and after a moment the courtesan does the same, looking from Thor to Loki in confusion.

“Is there something else you would have me do?” he ventures, but Thor shakes his head.

“This is not...I cannot. I -” he starts, struggling to explain himself, but Loki moves smoothly across the bed and slides his hand back into Thor’s.

“What seems exciting when whispered between two is, perhaps, more painful than pleasurable when actually tried,” Loki says to the courtesan with a half-smile, and Thor can see the courtesan’s mind working, sees him build a lie upon Loki’s suggestion.

“I understand,” he says. “These things...they do happen from time to time. Shall I leave the two of you alone to...talk for a while?”

“Thank you,” Loki says smoothly, his best mask in place. “We are sorry for inconveniencing you like this. Rest assured, we have no complaints about your service. If you could give us a few moments then we will be on our way.”

The courtesan accepts this easily and leaves them alone. “I am sorry,” Thor says as soon as he is gone, tightening his grip on Loki’s hand. “I am so sorry -”

“Hush,” Loki says without rancour. “I know, Thor. I knew this is how it would be. But you always have to experience things for yourself before you will accept them.”

They sit quietly for a moment, naked and hand in hand, and it should be completely innocent, should be a gesture of love and acceptance and nothing more. But Thor’s cock still aches and his blood burns, and all he wants is to turn and take Loki in his arms and press him down on the bed and fuck him and fuck him and -

“I did not mean for any of this!” Thor bursts out, self-restraint giving way under the flood of emotions he has been struggling to control. “I love you and I wanted to enjoy myself with you and it was new and exciting but now – now I want -”

“You want to fuck me,” Loki says, the words raw and harsh, “and I want to fuck you. And it disgusts you.”

“No!” Thor cries, for this is the heart of it, the true shame: “I am not disgusted. I know I should be. I know _you_ must be. But I want you, brother. I just want to love you every way I can.”

He turns to look at Loki and to his surprise sees not revulsion but a dawning wonder. “Is it so easy for you to accept?” Loki asks, as if testing Thor on his answers. “You see this as _love_?”

“Of course,” Thor says, confused. “I love you dearly. I know it is wrong to think such things of you and yet I cannot stop. I do not know what to do.”

“Love,” Loki echoes, looking stunned. He seems more shocked by this than by Thor admitting to his deviant desires, which Thor cannot fathom. His lust comes from his love, from his need to be close to Loki, to be the one to bring him pleasure, to have him sated and boneless and breathless in his arms. How could it be otherwise?

“You are a fool,” Loki says at last, “a sentimental fool, to think this some sort of romance and not a stain upon our souls, a sickness of our hearts.” He withdraws his hand and pulls away, leaving Thor aching and alone.

“I am sorry,” he says again, head drooping, for what else is there to say or do as Loki rises from the bed in one swift movement.

“I am not,” Loki says savagely as he straddles Thor’s lap, yanking on his hair to tip his head back so he can kiss him, lips meeting and teeth clashing as Thor’s mouth opens in shock, pressing his body hard against Thor. Thor kisses back instinctively at first and then with purpose as his desire roars to life, his confusion and hurt and fear drowned by the sheer joy of having Loki in his lap, tasting him, touching him, hands roaming over as much of his brother’s body as he can manage, finally able to have, to have and hold and –

Loki pulls back and they both pant for breath.  “Not here,” he says, flushed, nails digging into Thor’s arms. “Not yet.”

**VI**

They dress and head back to the palace in silence, moving at speed, footsteps quick and quickening as they draw closer to their rooms. Thor’s is closer and so they end up there, Thor locking the door behind him before turning to face his brother.

They should talk first; they should say and do many things, or perhaps say and do nothing at all, but Thor’s patience is worn thin and he cares for nothing except the taste of Loki that lingers on his tongue.

“Loki,” he growls but it is Loki who moves faster, pushing Thor back against the door, hands fisting in his hair as he covers Thor’s mouth with his own and kisses him hard, greedily pushing his tongue into Thor’s mouth as if he would devour him. Thor fights back, pulling Loki flush against him, hands sliding under his tunic to roam over his skin, tracing his spine from the small of his back to the base of his skull, rubbing his broad thumb in small circles, feeling Loki writhe and buck against him.

“Thor,” Loki gasps, breaking the kiss, “oh, _Thor_ -” and he attacks Thor’s neck with wet kisses, licking a broad stripe up to Thor’s earlobe before tugging on it with his teeth.

Thor curses and Loki takes this for encouragement, dragging his nails down Thor’s chest as he bites at Thor’s neck, small almost-hurts that only serve to excite Thor further. He surges forward, using his bulk to force Loki back, manhandling him onto the bed and pulling his tunic over his head. It takes only minutes for them to be free of their clothes but it is still too long and they come together violently, Thor intent on getting his hands on as much of Loki as possible and Loki determined to do the same.

Loki pushes Thor down and proceeds to lick a path from the pulse point in his neck to the base of his cock, kissing and biting and teasing, his breath ghosting over Thor’s desperate erection but never his lips, leaving Thor bucking into the empty air as he decides to suck a bruise into the crease between Thor’s crotch and his thigh. There is only such much of this flagrant mischief that Thor will take, and once he is in possession of a circle of marks surrounding his still untouched cock he decides enough is enough and drags Loki up into a full body embrace, rolling his hips so their cocks drag against each other, gasping shallowly, his hands flexing on Loki’s ass.

Loki rolls away and onto his back, grinning sharply before fumbling under his pillow until he retrieves a half-empty bottle of oil and passes it to Thor. Thor hastily coats his fingers, spurred on by the thought of Loki doing this to himself, fucking himself on his fingers as he thought of Thor, while in the next room Thor had rutted hopelessly against the mattress. Loki’s legs are spread wide for him and he forces himself to take a moment to appreciate the sight, to stroke Loki’s heavy balls and circle his twitching hole, listening with pleasure to Loki’s whimpers.

He slides a finger in with little resistance, for Loki is still loose from the courtesan’s preparations, and that thought spikes his jealousy, has him eager to wipe the memory of the other from both their minds. He adds another finger and slowly scissors until he can add a third, sucking marks into Loki’s smooth inner thigh as he does so, leaving a trail of bruises along the pale flesh, Loki bucking and moaning as he twists his fingers. He does not stop until Loki’s moans turn to pleas, the words broken and incoherent but clear enough for Thor.

He sits back to pour more oil on his cock, shuddering as he coats himself, mixing the oil with the pre-come oozing from the swollen head. He is teetering towards the edge already, just from the sight and smell of Loki spread out beneath him, and he takes a moment to breathe, to gather himself. Loki’s eyes snap open.

“Now,” he snarls and grabs at Thor, pulling him forward, tugging him into position until his cock is pressed against Loki’s slick hole and Thor needs no encouragement to push, sliding into Loki in one smooth stroke, coming to rest with his face pressed into Loki’s neck, gasping as Loki shakes around him.

“Loki,” he says brokenly, “Oh, _Loki_ ,” and turns his face blindly towards him until their lips meet again in a wet and panting kiss, Loki bent almost in half but wrapping his legs tightly around Thor.

“Fuck me,” Loki says, gasping the words into Thor’s mouth, “fuck me, damn you, _now_ ,” and Thor does, pulling back until only the tip of his cock remains and then plunging forward, further, deeper, again and again, wringing a sob out of Loki every time he does so, Loki clawing frantically at his back, his arms, begging for more, _more_ , harder, faster. Thor does so, blinded by pleasure, unable to stop kissing Loki, sloppily pressing his lips against his cheek, his forehead, his hair, loving the rising cries and the flood of filth and sound pouring out of his brother.

This is nothing like watching, nothing like sharing; Loki is his, all his, and it is glorious, his whole being wound around Thor, their bodies locked together, his orgasm building like a tide, gathering in his core and spreading out, his balls tightening as he fucks as hard and as fast as he can. “Loki,” he gasps, forcing his eyes open, looking down the perfect ‘o’ of his brother’s mouth, “I want you to come, please, brother, come for me -”

Loki gives a guttural moan at that and lets go of Thor with one hand to reach for his flushed and bobbing cock, smearing the pooled pre-come on his abdomen onto his palm and then spreading more over the slick head of his cock with his thumb. He grips tight and strokes firmly, matching Thor’s thrusts as best he can, and Thor lifts him up a little higher, hands tight on his hips and as he moves inside him Loki yelps. There, Thor thinks smugly, and resumes his fucking in earnest as Loki tugs frantically at his cock, cries merging into a wail as Thor drives in again and again, his whole body jerking as he approaches orgasm, thrashing wildly as his cock twitches and he comes, splattering his chest as he calls Thor’s name.

Thor cannot stop, keeps moving as Loki’s body shudders through the aftershocks, clamping down tightly on Thor’s cock. He is so close, so close and Loki is limp beneath him, a blissful expression on his face, but as Thor leans down to kiss him he pushes himself up, meets Thor’s lips with his own and murmurs, “Come on, brother, your turn, come in me -” and Thor groans, hips stuttering, orgasm rippling up his spine, rushing through him and he’s coming, pouring into Loki, claiming him at last.

It takes all he has not to slump onto Loki and likely crush him; instead he twists a little to the side so he can rest his weight on the bed but still hold Loki close. Loki is running his fingers through Thor’s hair, fucked-out and smiling, and Thor could happily die in this moment.

“Thank you,” Loki says softly and Thor murmurs something nonsensical back. They lay together, bodies cooling, until Thor’s cock slips free and Loki wriggles uncomfortably. Thor reluctantly lets him go and rolls onto his back as Loki slips out of bed and into their shared bathroom, returning cleaned and with a damp cloth for Thor. Thor half-heartedly wipes himself, enjoying the heavy smell of sex that permeates the room, thinking idly of the morning and a slower, languid coupling where he can lavish attention on his brother’s body before washing him clean in the bath and then starting all over again.

But Loki does not return to the bed. “I am returning to my room,” he says instead, picking up his clothes, his back to Thor.

“Wait,” Thor says, suddenly afraid. Was this – does Loki mean this was just once, a first and last time only? “Stay,” he says urgently. “Stay with me.”

Loki straightens and turns, a multitude of expressions passing over his face, too fast for Thor to make out, settling on what must be a façade of calm. “It would not be wise,” he says, but there is a shadow behind the words, an unspoken hope.

“But I am a fool,” Thor says, in a poor attempt at lightness, “and so I cannot be wise. Stay with me.”

Loki just looks at him and well, words have never been Thor’s strength. He rises from the bed and crosses the distance between them in two short steps, wrapping his arms around Loki and pulling him close. “Stay,” he says, with as much feeling as he can, pleading for more than just Loki’s company as he sleeps this night.

“It will be near impossible,” Loki says quietly. “If we are caught -”

“We will make it work,” Thor promises, though he knows the truth of Loki’s fears. “I do not know how. But I love you, Loki. I do not want this to be one night of madness.”

“You would prefer a lifetime of madness?” Loki asks, with something of his usual dry humour, and Thor feels him relax in his arms. He grins, foolishly and honestly.

“With you? Of course,” Thor says and Loki laughs a little and does not resist as Thor tugs back him to bed and holds him tight as they drift into sleep, their bodies so entwined so that no-one could ever come between them.

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt by [lokis-gspot](http://lokis-gspot.tumblr.com) is [here](http://lokis-gspot.tumblr.com/post/57622867330/i-theorize-that-thor-and-loki-started-having-sex). For your imaginative pleasure, the inspirations for: [Sonya, ](http://cache.desktopnexus.com/thumbnails/1430994-bigthumbnail.jpg)[Rosalin](https://jayinames.files.wordpress.com/2012/04/sofia-vergara-1.jpg), [Danuwa](http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jT8vVJVYlm8/TVYlcnxRDQI/AAAAAAAAABA/k2S_RIT3MQg/s1600/Narissa%20Irving.jpg) and [Liwei](http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e7o_KNqZkFA/TgtoJFGIxyI/AAAAAAAADBg/OTQK-VyC9cA/s1600/Picture-13-Edison-Liao-beautiful-face-and-post-sexy-best-hot-Asian-man-photo.jpg). Mystery man #5 is whoever you want him to be :) [You can find me on tumblr](http://amberfox17.tumblr.com)


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